Suddenly Quinn Fabray
by Kendarrr
Summary: What began as Quinn performing an Act of Service for glee club, not realizing that Rachel *is* glee club, escalates. Rachel notices, months later. Alternatively, Quinn Fabray's love language is Acts of Service and Rachel's love language is Words of Affirmation. AU - Quinn was never pregnant. Fic starts at 1x12 - Mattress.


started as a fever dream when i had Suddenly Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors stuck in my head for three weeks and this is what i came up with. episodic. might not make sense. but that's love for you.

* * *

"_You know what? I don't think I want to be a Cheerio after all. I don't want to be on a team where I only appear to belong. I'd rather be a part of a club that's proud to have me. _Like _glee club."_

Quinn exits Sue Sylvester's office and marches to the locker room to change out of the Cheerios uniform. She walked in that office fully expecting to re-emerge as a Cheerio, but that statement she made seconds after leaving ruined her chances of making it back in the team.

"Stupid, stupid," she mutters to herself. She changed out of the Cheerio uniform, possibly for good. She took one last long look at the red polyester outfit that she wanted to define her entire high school career before she left it behind. Dressed now in her white blouse and a blue skirt that reached past her knees, she left the locker room.

When the time comes to take the yearbook photo for glee club, Quinn bites back a smile. Out of everyone, Rachel is the most excited, bouncing off the walls, making sure Artie's collar is straight, that Tina isn't scowling, and Puckerman won't make an obscene gesture right before the photo is taken.

As the photographer tells them to get into their positions, Quinn second-guesses standing beside Brittany and Santana. After all, they still wear their Cheerio uniforms, and she doesn't, not anymore. To be eternally preserved in the photograph and remember what she lost in favour of the glee club would haunt her every time she revisits the yearbook. As Artie carries peg board that reads: GLEE CLUB 2009, Quinn chews her bottom lip, finds herself standing beside Finn, with Rachel in front of them both.

The diva has been smiling non-stop since she received the news of glee club getting a full page photo in the yearbook. But when she turns to look at Quinn, her smile is small. Rachel ducks her head in a demure, slightly-uncharacteristic-but-also-sort-of-not kind of way, and faces front once more.

Quinn blinks. Not realizing what she is getting herself into.

* * *

When Quinn finds the members of the glee club loitering in the hallway by the auditorium, she approaches them with one hand on her hip, brow raised. "Why are you just standing out here? I thought we need to rehearse?"

"The doors are locked," Rachel grumbles. "Principal Figgins said no one can use it today because Alcoholics Anonymous is using it later."

"So if it's later, why can't we use it now?"

"He said he wants to keep it clean. They're paying to rent the space." Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and stomped her feet. "This is _our_ school! Why do we have to concede to these strangers?"

"Relax, Berry."

"I will _not_, Quinn! We only have a month left and I will _not_ settle for anything less than spectacular of a performance for Sectionals!"

Quinn rolls her eyes and saunters away from the direction she came in, ignoring Rachel's calls for her to come back, we'll figure out something else, like practice in this hallway if we must!

She walks into Principal Figgins' office. What is it with her and offices, threatening those in power over something as banal as yearbook pages and rehearsal spaces? And why _is _she doing this in the first place? "Can we please use the auditorium? Just for two hours?" Quinn asks in her innocent Christian girl voice, honed over the years to get out of attending church in favour of sleeping in. "Please, sir, we promise we will clean up after ourselves."

Figgins attempts to stammer out an excuse, but ultimately comes up with nothing but the key to the auditorium. Quinn thanks him with bright, innocent eyes and swaggers out of the principal's office. She returns to the auditorium hallway, spinning the key ring around her index finger.

"Catch!" she chucks the key to the diva who catches it in surprise.

"What did you do to get this? Quinn, did you steal it?"

"No," Quinn rolls her eyes. "I asked nicely, that's all. Hurry up and open it so we can rehearse. And so you can rid yourself of all that manic energy you have going on." She makes a face and Rachel races to the auditorium door to open it.

"Nice going, Q," Santana drawls as they all pile into the darkness of the auditorium.

"Yeah! You're so nice to Rachel," Brittany beams as she bounces on the balls of her feet. "Not even Finn bothered to help her figure out the practice situation. Maybe _you_ should be co-captain with Rachel instead."

"Don't give her any ideas. And I don't want any more responsibility, okay?" Quinn groans. She spares Rachel a glance who, as she turns to look at the girl, darts her head away so fast with such an air of guilt that Quinn guesses she had been looking at her. Quinn chooses to shrug it off rather than call any attention to it.

After a few rounds of rehearsing their dance moves, Rachel calls for a break to re-hydrate and catch their breaths. Quinn slumps to the floor, her thighs burning from all the dancing. She busies herself with her water bottle when Rachel approaches her.

"Quinn, can we talk?"

"Sure, Berry."

The diva kneels on the floor and fidgets with the hem of her skirt. "I just wanted to thank you for securing the rehearsal space for today. I truly do appreciate it."

"It's fine. I _am_ in this club too, you know. You don't have to do everything," Quinn says. "You may be the captain, but you can ask the rest of us for help. Being the leader means learning to delegate. Don't forget."

There's that small smile again. A subconscious thought, a line of an idea comes to Quinn unbidden that it startles her and she nearly chokes on her water. The thought runs like a neon-lit marquee in her mind. _Cute_.

Quinn coughs at this purely random thought and Rachel rubs her back with a warm hand to help her regain her breathing—and her dignity.

"Thanks," she mutters.

This time, Rachel's smile is wider, larger, brighter. "Anytime. I mean, I hope you don't choke again, but…" she stammers through Quinn's raised brow, her cheeks a bright red. "Yeah, anytime."

* * *

God, what is happening to her? Quinn stares at nothing, but instead of the popcorn ceiling she sees _Rachel_. She closes her eyes, _Rachel_.

"Is this a crush, Lord? Because if it is, it's not funny."

* * *

The glee club gathers in the wings of the April Rhodes auditorium for a dress rehearsal, a run-through of their entire setlist for Sectionals—which is in two weeks, might Rachel add! She fixes her hair in front of a body-length mirror, frowns at the bow wrapped around her body. She twists, turns, surmises that the bow is off-centre and crooked.

Rachel looks around to ask Kurt to straighten it, but he is occupied with Mercedes—both of them working on fixing the busted seam of Tina's costume. She glances at Brittany and Santana but again, the two cheerleaders are off in their own little world. Rachel briefly considers asking Finn for help, but before she takes a step in the direction of the tall boy, Quinn appears in the mirror. Without a word, the blonde ex-cheerleader unravels the ribbon and works on retying it. Occasionally, Quinn glances at Rachel's reflection in the mirror, a small smile on her lips. Once she finishes tying the ribbon, she looks up at Rachel.

"There. Straight, just like you."

Rachel's eyes meet Quinn's, and she sees in the hazel eyes that she is playing, smiling at her own joke.

"Thank you, Quinn." Rachel turns to look at her actual face, and not her reflection. The blonde stands a few inches taller from her, so she still has to look up at her to meet her gaze. "And for the record, I'm not." She grins and takes the opportunity for a perfectly-timed exit towards Kurt and Mercedes. A few minutes later, when Rachel chances a glance towards Quinn, she sees the blonde still standing where she left her, staring at the space where Rachel once stood.

Sectionals. The panic of having their setlist stolen, the anger and frustration boiling in Rachel's veins makes it difficult to see clearly. She wants to throw a fit, a tantrum, anything to quell her rage. But she takes a few deep breaths. New Directions needs her as a leader, after all.

She discusses the song choices with her team. Her… she still hesitates to call them this—friends. She offers the ballad to Mercedes, but when the girl rejects it to give it to her instead with the rest of the team nodding their agreement, Rachel smiles, takes their faith in her close to her chest.

When Quinn suggests Somebody to Love as their group number, she is looking at Rachel. For approval, Rachel guesses. She nods in agreement over the number.

Everyone breaks off to figure out the choreography, while Rachel finds herself a corner for her vocal warmups. As she belts a high note, she catches sight of Quinn in the corner of her vision. Still, she holds the note for as long as she is able, cutting it off once her lungs run out of air.

"Here's some lemon water," Quinn hands her a cup that is warm to the touch. "Thought you might like some for your throat."

"Thank you," Rachel accepts it and takes a sip. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for glee club," Quinn retorts with a deftly-raised brow. Rachel squares her shoulders, refuses to shrink into herself though that is what her instinct demands of her. "I want to win, and you're the one who's going to do that for us, so… Don't forget to drink all of that," Quinn orders, gesturing towards the drink she brought, and Rachel does a mock salute. She laughs and walks away, and Rachel can't help but wish she didn't.

* * *

When the first day of junior year rolls around, Rachel is filled with equal parts trepidation and excitement. It means seeing her friends again, being with her new boyfriend every day, and being the shining star of the club once more. Sure, they didn't make it to Nationals last year, but it was also their first year of operations, and to get as far as Regionals is nothing to scoff at.

She looks for her locker for the year and figures out the combination for her lock. She chances to look up at the same moment Quinn Fabray turns the corner and… is back to wearing her cheerleading uniform.

The reactionary fear that curdles Rachel's insides makes her flinch. But she's happy to see that Quinn is back to doing what she seemed to enjoy doing. She can only hope that she doesn't go back to her mean ways. That doesn't seem to be too much to ask, right?

As Quinn nears, Rachel's heart rate skyrockets.

"Hi, Rachel." She says in passing. "I'll see you in glee club."

Rachel leans back against the wall of lockers. She watches the way the pleats of Quinn's skirt sashays with her movements. She swoons.

* * *

The entire month since school started, Rachel had her emergency slushie kit crammed in her locker. And while Kurt and the others got slushied, Rachel is alarmed that she is always narrowly avoided. To the point that Mercedes gets mad at her for doing _nothing_.

Is it because she's dating Finn? Rachel smiles at the thought. She approaches him with a thank you.

"What did I do?"

"Didn't you stop the slushies aimed towards me? I wish you'd do it for everyone and not just for myself—it creates unnecessary tension between glee club members."

"Uh," Finn scratched the back of his head. "That wasn't me. Quinn came into the boys' locker room one day and told the guys to stop throwing slushies at you, Rach."

"Oh," Rachel blinks. "Okay. I'll make sure to thank Quinn instead."

* * *

"All I'm asking is _why_ you did it, Quinn, not the entire manifesto of your plans and motives!"

Rachel corners Quinn in the AP English classroom, a class they share. Everyone has cleared out, since it is the last class of the day. As Quinn calmly puts her papers in her binder, she looks at Rachel with a stoic expression and Rachel briefly entertains the idea of touching her cheek to see if she is made of marble. "Are you saying you _want_ to get slushied?"

"I'm saying that maybe you should extend the kindness you feel for me towards the other members of our club," Rachel says carefully.

"You weren't even supposed to find out," Quinn mutters. "Stupid Finn can't keep his stupid mouth shut."

Together they walk out of the classroom, falling into step beside each other. Rachel can't help but compare how easily she can match Quinn's gait. She doesn't have to scurry like when she does when she's walking with Finn. "Look, I won't make any promises," Quinn stops at her locker and Rachel leans against the wall to admire the profile of the head cheerleader. "I think it already took all of the influence I had to make them stop throwing slushies at you—I don't know if I can manage the rest of the glee club."

"Please, just try?"

Quinn looks at her and it's intense, the way her hazel eyes are simultaneously light and dark at once. So stormy, so expressive. "For you, Berry."

She slams the door of her locker shut and leaves Rachel admiring her walk, her swagger.

Did _the _Quinn Fabray really just say she will do it—whatever _it_ was—for her, Rachel Berry?

Rachel can't decide whether to huff in confusion or sigh dreamily.

She can't help herself. She does the latter.

* * *

Rachel, as glee club captain, should have known that a rehearsal in Finn and Kurt's home basement would never turn out to be a productive one.

It's Saturday, which is the first mistake. No teenager in their right mind wants to work on anything remotely school-related on a Saturday. That's why it surprises Rachel that everyone actually showed up. Her second mistake is the fact that it's at Finn and Kurt's house—because Finn gets too relaxed, goads Puck, Mike, Sam, and Artie into playing with his XBox. That's on his side of the basement. Whereas on Kurt's corner, he immerses in a full-blown gossip session with Mercedes, Tina, Santana, and Brittany.

As Rachel huffs to herself, sheet music in hand, she glances at the only other person who doesn't separate into the two camps. Quinn Fabray sits on a loveseat, her legs tucked under her. She's looking through her music, she's humming the song. Rachel doesn't know what to make of it, the look of intensity in Quinn's eyes, but when the blonde looks up, catches her staring, she figures it won't hurt to _maybe_ sit beside her? Aren't they sort-of friends anyway?

The decision is made for her when Quinn smiles and pats the space on the loveseat beside her. She resists the urge to hop, skip, and jump to where Quinn sits and parks herself beside the cheerleader. "At least someone other than myself intends to do some rehearsing," Rachel whispers with a pout.

"I'm surprised you agreed to this," Quinn comments. "Get any of the boys in the same room with a video game console and you lose them. Same with the girls and a bed, I guess."

Rachel sighs and leafs through the sheet music of their setlist for Regionals. "I suppose a glee bonding moment isn't so bad if it'll strengthen our connections with one another." She concedes. "You can join Kurt and the others, if you'd like."

"I'm okay right here, thanks."

Rachel swallows hard. So is she. She's not in the mood to listen through gossip about which cheerleader is dating which jock. Nor is she interested in the _slightest_ over whatever blood-and-gore game plays on the screen of the TV. Even when Finn calls her over to sit on the beanbag chair where he's sitting, she politely shakes her head, tells him to have his fun with his guy friends while she… sits with Quinn Fabray.

Rachel fidgets with the hem of her skirt, her gaze darting all over the place, never settling on what she _wants_ to look at. By now, Quinn has returned her sheet music to a folder in a bag and she's reading a book. Rachel glances at the cover and it's some book called _Written on the Body_ and when she scans the pages, she sees copious red lines that run across the pages.

"I don't recall this book being in our required reading," she comments.

"It's not. I'm reading it for myself," Quinn responds. And for some reason, Rachel thinks she should've known _that_, but at the same time, something about the way Quinn uncaps a red pen, writes a smooth line, and makes a tiny note, leaves Rachel's heart fluttering. Quinn Fabray annotates her books for _fun_ and for some reason that has her swooning.

She can't figure out why, though.

Abruptly, the scene changes. Someone puts on music—not to rehearse, because it's party music. From nowhere, Puck pulls out a bottle of Grey Goose and someone rushes upstairs to bring down fruit juice to mix the vodka in. Rachel watches in horror as everything seems to go in fast-forward.

"I'm hungry! Let's get pizza!"

The guys cheer and Mike gets on the phone with the local pizza shop—to Rachel's dismay because they have no vegan options whatsoever. She catches the sleeve of Finn as he carries beer from the fridge they had in the garage.

"Finn, what can I eat? The local pizzeria doesn't exactly carry things I can eat."

The boy scratches the back of his head, the beer case propped against his hip. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"Your girlfriend's vegan, Finn." Quinn interrupts Rachel before she can say anything, doesn't even bother to look up from the book she has on her lap. "Honestly, a year of being together, you'd think he'd know this by now."

"Oh! Right, right…" His face scrunches into a look of concentration. "Percy's have veggie lovers though!"

"Still has cheese," Quinn, again.

"I don't know, then," Finn mutters. "Sorry, Rach." And he walks back to his group of friends. Rachel sits there like she's been forgotten—the worst feeling in the world. Her mouth parts as if to speak, but nothing comes out. By now, everyone has had a shot or two, except for her and Quinn. Despite Puck's insistent offering, Quinn shakes her head.

"The only time I take a drink from you, Puckerman, is if I'm dying of thirst. And even then, I'd be hesitant."

"What about you, fellow Jew?" Puck offers Rachel a glass of orange juice which she assumes is laced with the vodka. "Just one! To bring you into a partying mood. Weren't you the one who planned this, anyway?"

"I planned a _rehearsal, _Noah, not a party. So, no thank you."

The boy shrugs and swaggers away and collapses on the beanbag chairs with a dull thump. "Good choice," Quinn says. "Never drink anything he gives you—but more importantly, don't do it on an empty stomach. That's how he got me drunk after one wine cooler." She marks her page and closes her book. She rises to her feet, and Rachel _swears_ she doesn't mean to look at Quinn like she's something out of a dream. When the blonde towers over her, it's a comfortable height and it's not alarming or threatening like when Finn does it. Quinn has a small smile on her face and to Rachel that's worth clutching her heart over. But she doesn't. When Quinn offers her hand, though, Rachel nearly _loses_ her mind. "Come on."

"Um, come where, exactly?"

"Upstairs. Gotta find you something you can actually eat, right?" Rachel takes Quinn's hand and she pulls Rachel to her feet a bit too strongly that their bodies nearly collide. Quinn's cheek twitches into a half-smile and they climb the stairs to the Hummel-Hudson kitchen.

Burt's there, washing the dishes. He looks up when he sees the two of them. "Howdy, girls."

"Hi Burt," Quinn waves. "Do you mind if we forage something to eat with this little rabbit over here?" She jabs a thumb in Rachel's direction. If it were anyone else, Rachel would huff and be affronted that she is compared to such a meek and silent animal. But with Quinn it's borderline endearing. With that smile, her tongue peeking out between rows of white teeth, who can resist smiling back?

Burt frowns. "Did Finn order from Percy's again? That boy knows they don't do vegan."

"It's okay, Burt. He's busy with his friends, and I'm used to it—"

"_Used_ to it?" Quinn raises a well-defined brow. "He does this a lot?" She looks between Rachel and Burt. The older man nods solemnly while the diva avoids her gaze. "Some boyfriend."

"That's what I keep tellin' 'im," Burt shakes his head. "But I guess it's good that Rachel has you, huh?" He grins at Quinn. "You girls have fun. Help yourself to anything."

He shuffles out of the kitchen, leaving Quinn and Rachel with each other. Rachel shifts her weight from foot to foot and avoiding Quinn's look. She can _feel_ how the blonde stares—with disapproval, she imagines.

Yet when Rachel spares Quinn a glance, her back is turned and she's looking into the cupboards.

"Y-you don't have to find something for me to eat," Rachel says. "Really, Quinn, I can—"

"Starve?" Quinn grabs a can of diced tomatoes and a can of black beans.

"I was going to say," Rachel huffs. "I can just head home."

Quinn replaces the cans she found back in the cupboard. "Good idea. Didn't your dads drive you here though?" Rachel nods. "I can drive you home, if you like."

"You're not staying for the party?"

"No," Quinn says with a laugh. "The thought of being tipsy in the presence of Puckerman still fills me with abject dread. I don't really know why. Something about it sounds like an overall terrible idea."

"Oh, okay. If you don't mind, then I accept your offer for a ride home, Quinn."

"Relax," the blonde grins and pats Rachel's shoulder. "I offered, didn't I?"

They head back downstairs in the basement and the sight that greets them is comparable to a frat party in movies Rachel watched. Brittany is topless, Santana is crying in Mercedes' arms, and Finn is staring at the ceiling while sprawled on the floor. Kurt, at least, looks somewhat sober.

"I'm heading home now, Kurt," Rachel says. "Quinn offered to drive me."

Rachel stoops to pick her bag up off the floor just as Finn grabs at it with a groan. "_Nooo_, Rach, don't leave yet," he whines. "We can make out and stuff." He smiles, bleary.

"No thank you, Finn," Rachel struggles to pick up her bag, but the dead weight of the boy is attached to it. "Finn, let go!"

"No! You're _my _girlfriend—"

Quinn huffs and rolls her eyes. She digs her heel into Finn's bicep. The boy yelps and Quinn tugs Rachel's bag free from his grasp. Without preamble, she climbs the stairs and Rachel rushes after her, despite the yelling from her boyfriend. Rachel sighs in relief once they're out of the Hummel-Hudson house. Outside, dusk settles over the horizon. A cool breeze blows past and Rachel shivers, the warmth from inside the house makes it feel colder than it really is.

She follows Quinn to her red Beetle, blushing when the blonde even opens the passenger door for her. Quinn takes Rachel's bag, puts it in the back, and gets on the driver's seat. As soon as Quinn starts the engine and starts driving, Rachel blurts, "why are you being so nice to me?" She knows she's asked this of Quinn before, but maybe—a hopeful thought blooms inside Rachel—something about the blonde has changed. Maybe she considers Rachel a friend?

"Because being mean is actually pretty exhausting. Thinking of new insults daily drains me, when I can be putting all that energy to good use." Quinn glances at the rearview mirror and then at Rachel. "Is that so weird?"

"No," Rachel admits. She takes in the interior of Quinn's car. The rosary that dangles behind the rearview mirror. The faint smell of pine hangs in the air. So different from the stale redolence of Finn's truck where the cloying stench of his football gear, cheese, and sweat prevails.

They ride in relative silence after that. Rachel watches the view of trees passing by, the looks of familiar houses. Without prior preamble, Rachel's stomach growls.

She flushes in embarrassment just as Quinn pulls up to the all-way stop sign that leads to Rachel's street. "How about I take you out to dinner?"

"Quinn, you don't have to—"

The blonde grins as she makes a left, turns away from Rachel's street. "Too bad, Berry."

Quinn parks in front of one of the few restaurants that serve vegan food in Lima. "I didn't know you're familiar with Basil's," Rachel comments, stepping out of the car and following Quinn into the restaurant's foyer. They are seated almost immediately—the place is rarely too busy that warrants a wait.

"My mom likes to try new restaurants. I've only been here twice with her," Quinn looks through the menu with a low hum. "You're a regular?"

Before Rachel can answer, Cassandra, or Sandra as Rachel calls her, comes singing on her way to their booth. "Rachel, baby! Back so soon?" She looks between Rachel and the blonde that sits across from her. "Ooh, are we on a date?"

"Sandra, no!" Rachel blushes.

"Hi, I'm Quinn, Rachel's friend," at the term 'friend', Rachel's eyes widen. "We're in glee club together."

"Sandra. Nice to meet you," the tall woman returns Quinn's smile. "Rachel told me about her being in glee club but I've never watched her perform. I bet she's a killer, the way her dads fawn over her, right?" She winks at Rachel's direction, and the girl tries not to shrink into her seat.

Quinn laughs and takes it all in stride. "She's pretty great. We wouldn't have made it to Regionals last year without her."

Sandra takes their food orders and places two glasses and a pitcher of water for their table. As she leaves, Quinn pours out water in both of their glasses before grinning at Rachel. "She seems nice."

"My dads and I love her. She's been working at Basil's since the start. She's the main reason why we keep coming back. The food is nothing spectacular, but it's still good."

"You haven't been here with Finn?" Quinn asks, her mouth resting on the rim of her glass.

"No. We rarely go out to eat, given how different our diets are."

"Figures. Boy can't even remember you're vegan three-fourths of the time," Quinn mutters, more to herself, really, but Rachel hears her anyway.

"I'm surprised you're trying vegan food, Quinn," Rachel admits with a shy smile.

Quinn shrugs. "Maybe beyond meat is the future. What's your favourite vegan dish?"

"You can try it for yourself. I ordered it."

A plate of sweet potato fries arrive, along with the dishes the two girls ordered. "On the house," Sandra winks, referring to the plate of fries. She places the two plates in front of Quinn and Rachel and leaves them to their food.

"What is that?" Quinn asks curiously, looking at the food on Rachel's plate. For herself, she has a bowl of vegan chili along with crispy toasted baguette.

"It's seitan pitas." Rachel says. "Want a bite?"

"Sure, but… Sa...tan?"

"No, Quinn," Rachel giggles. "Sei-tan." Rachel explains everything she knows about the wheat gluten, and to the blonde's credit, she listens without seeming bored. Rachel smiles. Finds herself maybe just a little bit in love with Quinn Fabray.

Oh, but she shakes the thought from her mind. She has a _boyfriend_. One that doesn't care about her dietary choices most of the time, but a boyfriend nonetheless.

They share a vegan brownie between the two of them after they finish their dinner. That's where Quinn draws the line, apparently, and after one bite she winces and gives Rachel the rest of her share. "Brownies without butter and eggs just seem wrong to me. Sorry, Rachel."

"It's perfectly fine. More for me!"

Sandra comes by to clear their dishes. "Will you be paying together or separate?"

"Together, please," Quinn says before Rachel can get a word in. At this, Sandra turns to Rachel with wide eyes and a teasing smile.

The server returns and puts in the amount of their food in the credit machine which she hands to Quinn. She taps her card against the screen and finally takes the time to look at Rachel who sits there, petulant. "What's with the pout?"

"I can pay for my own food, you know."

"I know," Quinn says with a roll of her eyes. "And what about it?"

Sandra snickers. "Why don't you just pay for dinner next time you two are here, Rachel?"

"Yeah, Rachel," Quinn grins. "Next time."

The diva bites her lip, unable to repress the smile that blooms on her face. "Okay. Next time."

Sandra rips the receipt as it is printed out. She scans the slip of paper, her jaw drops. She looks to Rachel, hiding her face from Quinn. "Keep her. She tips 30%!" She mouths. At this, Rachel giggles.

Quinn waits for Rachel and they both thank Sandra as they leave the restaurant. "What did Sandra say to you?" The blonde asks curiously.

"Oh nothing," Rachel grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Now that she is no longer hungry, everything seems warmer and better. And Quinn is so fun to be around, much to her surprise. She doesn't realize that it's nearing ten pm until they're outside, the parking lot is nearly empty, and the moon is high. "She said I should keep you since you tip so well."

Quinn laughs and opens the car door for Rachel. "If that's what it'll take."

The blonde drives Rachel to her house, the conversation in the car coming so easily that once Quinn parks her car at the Berry driveway, the diva meanders when unclipping her seatbelt. Quinn shuts off her car engine and steps out of the car, Rachel following. "I enjoyed spending time with you," she admits shyly. "You're more fun than I thought."

"I know, I know. I _was_ a frigid bitch," Rachel looks up to deny it, but she hears in Quinn's laughter that she is joking. Her fists are buried in the pockets of her jacket as she sways to and fro, from nervousness? Rachel guesses, but why, when they've been having such a good time? She likes how Quinn is walking her up to her front door, makes her feel like she's in a movie and this was their first date…

Rachel internally shakes her head. Her fantasies need some serious recalibration.

"I had fun with you too," Quinn says.

They face each other into the late night, the only light illuminating their features comes from the porch light of Rachel's home. With a shuddering breath, Quinn offers Rachel a half-smile and holds out an arm. Rachel doesn't second-guess it, doesn't hesitate. She curls into Quinn's arms into a hug that smells of Quinn. Her nose grazes the crook of Quinn's neck, and the blonde rubs her back for a few seconds before she pulls away, much to Rachel's disappointment.

"Have a good night, Rachel," Quinn grins, taking a step back. "I hope your dads won't get mad at me for keeping you out so late."

"I'm sure they'll understand," Rachel's voice sounds so breathy in her own ears. "Will you text me to let me know you made it home safe?"

"I will," Quinn nods. "Okay, go inside already or we'll be standing here all night."

"Is that so bad?" Rachel murmurs while she looks into her bag for her house keys.

"No," she hears Quinn say and Rachel snaps in alarm, not expecting Quinn to have heard. "But it's cold and I have to go to church tomorrow."

"Oh! I'm sorry I kept you out so long!" She manages to finally unlock the door and she nearly falls inside when she pushes the door too violently. "Bye, Quinn. Good night!"

Rachel hears another round of Quinn's pleasant laughter, hears her footsteps fade and the sound of the engine dissipate into the darkness. With her back against the front door, Rachel sighs a dreamy sigh before climbing the stairs up to her room. She changes into a pair of baggy shorts and a shirt and undergoes her nightly routine. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she returns to her bedroom and finds her daddy there, wearing his smoking jacket—though he doesn't smoke—and a curious look that he aims in her direction.

"And where were you, young lady?" He asks, though his tone is far from mad.

"Had dinner at Basil's."

"With whom, may I ask? Finn?"

"No," Rachel sits beside Leroy and leans her cheek against the firm bicep of her dad's arm. "With Quinn."

"Well, I'm glad you two are friends now," he wraps an arm around Rachel's shoulders and presses a kiss into her hair. "But try not to make such a commotion next time you're out late, okay? Your dads need to sleep."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just," Rachel suppresses a delighted shiver from running through her spine at the memory and the thought of the blonde cheerleader. Smiling at her, talking with her. "I didn't expect her to be this nice, you know?"

Leroy chuckles. "I'll remember to ask Sandra how your dinner went with Quinn. Go to bed, darling. Good night."

Rachel slumps on her bed to stare at the ceiling. Quinn Fabray in the forefront of her mind. When her phone buzzes, she jumps to check the text, happy to see it's from Quinn.

**I made it home safe and sound!**

**Hope you didn't get into too much trouble with your dad(s).**

_I'm glad you're home!_

_And no, my daddy wasn't mad or anything. Though he did say I was far too loud coming in._

_The lateness of the hour wasn't the issue. It was my volume._

_Yeah? I thought he'd be used to it by now._

**Quinn, I resent the implication.**

_I'm teasing. Don't you have to be up at 6 for some crazy workout?_

_Go to sleep, don't read this text._

**I should say the same for you! You have to go to church!**

_I can sleep during the homily._

**Quinn! What would Jesus think?**

_Dunno, guy's been dead for millennia._

_I'm not going to talk religion with you at this hour, Berry._

_Go to sleep!_

Rachel's eyes burn from exhaustion, but under her duvet she wriggles like an eel, her body filled to the brim with some kind of thrill, excitement from the simple and almost banal conversation she is exchanging with Quinn. Her legs rub together like a cricket and she smiles to herself. Or technically, she's smiling at Quinn, but she cannot see Rachel's face from beyond the phone screen.

**Okay, okay. Good night.**

_Good night, Rachel._

The diva shuts her phone and buries it under her pillow. She closes her eyes to replay the good events that happened to her that day. Rachel fixates on the small things that Quinn did—pouring water for her, paying the bill with no hesitation. Holding the door for her. Finn does some of these things because, Rachel assumes, it's expected of him—being the boy and all. But why does Quinn do it? Surely on her dates, the boys do these things for her? Then how come it seems second nature for Quinn to be gallant and chivalrous and…

Rachel sighs again. She seems to be doing that a lot lately.

* * *

Since the day Quinn took her on a not-date, Rachel grew alert to anything and everything the head cheerleader does for her. From refusing to yell at her when she contests Rachel's song choices to giving her _specifically_ the handout for class, Rachel takes note of them all, and tries not to think too much of it. But she really can't help herself. She inspects every moment, magnifies it. Wonders what thoughts run through Quinn's head.

Rachel finishes paying for her lunch and walks with her tray to the table where Kurt and others are sitting. It isn't until she's sitting down and getting ready to eat her fruit cup that she realizes she didn't take a spoon from the cutlery bin.

As she turns to throw her leg over the bench seat to get up again, Quinn takes the seat across from Rachel, nudging Tina aside in the process. She has her own tray in front of her, and looks curiously at the half-standing diva. "Where are you going?"

"Forgot a spoon, I'll be back."

Quinn hands Rachel her own spoon, and Rachel stares at the utensil in her hands. "Quinn, I can get one for myself."

The blonde shrugs. "It's already there. And I don't need it."

"Then why did you get one?"

Quinn's eyes sparkle with hidden laughter. "Thought I might balance it off the tip of my nose. I don't know, Berry. It's just a spoon. Maybe it was force of habit."

"Well," Rachel tucks her hair behind her ears and sits back down in front of Quinn. "I suppose I have your habits to thank, strange as it sounds."

The head cheerleader grins and playfully rolls her eyes. "You're welcome."

* * *

Really, though. It's not _just_ a spoon.

What if it means something like… _I want to spoon you_? Rachel wants to scream at the mere thought, but seeing as she's in class, the most she can do is the tiniest of screeches. A blush rises to her cheeks thinking about Quinn Fabray wanting to _spoon_ her. Mike, who shares math class with her, glances at her direction with an amused smile.

Rachel gasps. What if Quinn is psychic? Like her?

Oh, heavens almighty, won't that mean that she can read the thoughts, the obsessions, the intense speculation that Rachel does with every move Quinn makes?

She rests the back of her hand against her brow. She needs a fainting couch right about now.

* * *

With all the Quinn-related thoughts running through Rachel's brain, she goes to Finn's house the following week and abruptly breaks up with him.

A part of her feels it's a long time coming. They haven't been spending time together—she's always busy thinking about school, glee club, and Quinn, and Finn seems to be content playing football and video games and singing when it's asked of him.

"Huh—wha—but—w-what did I do?"

"No, Finn. That's precisely it. You didn't do anything," Rachel rests a soothing hand on his broad shoulder. "I'm just… so confused. There are so many things in my mind right now and I feel like I can't be present for you, in the way you need me to."

"Oh," the boy scrunches his face and nods. "I… guess that makes sense. It's okay though, Rach. I'm not mad." He smiles crookedly and pats Rachel's hand. "I'm a bit bummed we don't get to make out anymore, but we haven't done that in a while either. We can still be friends though, right?"

"Of course. You're a good guy, Finn."

"Thanks," he rubs the back of his head and sits on the edge of his bed. "Is there… someone else?"

"I have not, nor will I ever, cheat on you!"

"That's not what I asked," Finn laughs. "You know, like. When you hear a love song playing on the radio, someone else pops in your mind instead of me."

"That still counts as emotional cheating and I won't abide by it."

"You can call it whatever, but at least answer my question."

Rachel huffs and crosses her arms across her chest. "Fine. Sorry to say, but yes."

"Who is it? I promise I won't be mad."

"I can't," Rachel pouts. "I need to make sure if my feelings are romantic. Heck, I need to figure out _what_ exactly I'm feeling before I go telling everyone about it." She kisses him on the cheek and hugs him briefly before saying goodbye. She walks out of his house and returns to her own.

* * *

Glee club is surprisingly not-awkward. Finn still says hi to her, but chooses to sit with Puck and Mike to talk about football. Kurt knows about Rachel breaking up with his brother though, and she can feel his eyes burning the back of her head, can hear him whispering fervently with Mercedes. Rachel hugs her binder to her chest, tries to focus on whatever moral lesson Mr. Schue has in store for them this week.

"I want you all to break up into partners, with someone you rarely sing with," Mr. Schue begins as soon as he walks into the choir room. "Each of you will come up with a song that embodies something you've always wanted to tell the other person. And then," he stresses with a wide grin. "Do a mash-up of the songs and perform it two weeks from now."

Rachel tenses. She glances at Quinn's general direction and has to fight the impulse to squeak and look away—given that the blonde is looking at her also. As the club breaks off into groups, Rachel practically leaps out of her chair and heads to Quinn's direction. They meet halfway, eyes meeting. They break off into giggles, ignoring the looks of others around them.

"So you have something to sing to me, Berry?"

"I can ask the same of you, Fabray," Rachel banters back.

Oh god, she's flirting with Quinn Fabray.

With all the sounds of people discussing song choices, Quinn takes Rachel by the arm. Mentions to Mr. Schue that they're going to the auditorium so they can hear each other better. Once there, they sit on the piano bench together. "I heard you and Finn broke up."

Rachel plays a note and shrugs. "I broke up with him."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"But I want to," Rachel turns to look at Quinn, who is looking at her. In her Cheerios uniform, her facade is always mildly threatening. But Rachel wants to believe _so badly_ that there is something about Quinn that she hasn't figured out. And once she does, maybe it's the key to unlocking this whole thing that mystifies Rachel about Quinn. "I broke up with Finn because, as he so aptly puts it, someone else pops in my head when a love song plays on the radio. Do you think that's cheating?"

Quinn stays quiet, playing a stripped-down version of a familiar song that Rachel doesn't know the title of. "No, I don't think it is," she finally says. "I don't know much about psychology, but when something's been on your mind for a while, it's on the surface of your consciousness or something. Like when you dream about something you've been thinking about when you're awake. So really, you're just reminded of whatever—or whomever—you're thinking of. It doesn't mean that you're cheating, necessarily." She looks at Rachel with a raised brow. "Who's the new guy?"

With a deep breath, Rachel stares ahead to avoid looking at Quinn. "She's not a guy."

"You _did_ mention you're not straight," Quinn says with a chuckle. "Does she know?"

"Goodness, no," Rachel ears start to grow warm and she glances at Quinn. The blonde is staring at the piano keys. Rachel wonders if this is a projection, but Quinn looks like she's trying not to cry. Rachel bites her lip, her mind races while she decides on what she has to do.

But as with most heartfelt things, her decision is not calculated. She goes by what propels her, and it's Quinn's name in her mouth, bubbling out of her like an impulse.

"Quinn, you're that girl." Rachel says with a laugh that is breathless and anxious in equal measure. She leaps to her feet and starts pacing by the piano, her mind churns thoughts, words fly out of her mouth. Does she make sense? She has _no idea_. "And I don't know when this started—this… thinking about you when love songs play on the radio thing, but…" she covers her face with her two hands and struggles to explain herself through the jumble of her thoughts. "It just happened. Because I had this feeling that you were being so nice, and it's not like I start to have a crush on every person who's _suddenly_ nice to me but it's you, _Quinn Fabray_, everyone's dream girl, right? But oh my god, you do these small things like pouring water for me or giving me a spoon and I would think about them for days afterward. My head spins when you're near, and—" She glances at Quinn who's looking at her with wide, admiring eyes. "And you look at me like that and the _whole world_ spins faster!"

Rachel stops her pacing. She stares at the floor. "I know I'm a difficult girl, but all I want is boundless love."

A cold hand curls around Rachel's wrist. Quinn stands in front of her now, smiling. "Are you done?"

"For now," Rachel swallows. She looks up at Quinn and all she can read in her face is tenderness.

* * *

Quinn feels like she's been sucker-punched in the heart.

How is Rachel Berry the most adorable thing the world has come up with in the last millennia and she is standing in front of Quinn confessing her crush?

* * *

"I don't think I'm as eloquent as you," Quinn admits. "And I'm glad you noticed the things I've been doing for you. Took you only a year," she teases.

"A _year_?" Rachel sputters. "But… But…"

"It's okay," Quinn laughs, ushers Rachel to sit back down on the piano bench. "I didn't realize _why _I started doing it, but the way you reacted, the way you looked at me made me feel all kinds of funny. Then I realized, I have a crush on Rachel Berry."

Rachel's ears ring with the words and she puts a hand up to pause whatever Quinn is about to say next. She closes her eyes, commits Quinn's voice to memory and sighs dreamily. "Okay, continue."

"Weirdo," Quinn says, and the affection is unmistakable in her voice. "So I kept doing small things without realizing them. I thought about telling you, but I never knew what to say. Until now."

Rachel looks at their hands that are still clasped together. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"You have a crush on me."

"I do. You have a crush on me."

"I do." Rachel bursts into giggles. "It sounded like we were getting married."

"You move fast," Quinn teases, nudging Rachel with her shoulder. "I haven't even asked you out on a date yet, and you're already talking about marriage?"

"I just like to imagine possible futures," Rachel says while holding her chin up high.

"Okay, well," Quinn giggles. "Do you want to go on a date with me? I thought we can go to Basil's and talk."

"Don't I already talk enough as it is?"

"Sometimes," Quinn laughs and lifts their joined hands to kiss the back of Rachel's hand. "But I really like hearing your voice." She looks at Rachel and it's too intense—all hazel eyes and insinuation. Rachel's throat flexes and she licks her bottom lip. Quinn glances at her mouth and the air grows thick around them. Ever impatient, Rachel's hand curves over the back of Quinn's neck. Pulls her into a kiss.

"What happens if I want to hear your voice _and _want to kiss you?" Quinn murmurs against Rachel's mouth.

"You're going to have to choose."

* * *

Quinn opts not to respond in that moment. She kisses Rachel again and the softness of Rachel's lips drives her crazy. Rachel takes her bottom lip in her mouth and Quinn's vision blurs.

Desire is such a weak word for what she is feeling right now.

* * *

"Wait, wait… We have to pick a song for glee."

They've lost track of time. Quinn looks up at Rachel with a dazed smile. "We'll figure it out later."

"Quinn, we have to go back."

"Then get off my lap."

Rachel giggles. "But I can't feel my legs."

Quinn helps her to stand and together they return to the choir room. It's not until they are about to part to sit in their own chairs that they realize they are still holding hands.

That's how they effectively told the glee club that they have something going on.

"Oh boy, here we go." Quinn murmurs. Rachel peers into her face to look for any sign of nervousness or hesitance, finding nothing but amusement and resignation as everyone yells questions. Rachel can't find it in herself to care about them in that moment because her face is sticky with Quinn's lip gloss and she can still feel the sensation of her tongue on hers.

Rachel sighs a dreamy sigh. It's all she can do, these days.


End file.
